


such faithful company

by grannvale (Windmire)



Series: be heartless and brave [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Eagles route, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21531709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windmire/pseuds/grannvale
Summary: It strikes Claude, as he tunes out his classmates chattering excitedly about the attack during the Rite of Rebirth, that he really, really wishes Professor Byleth had chosen to teach the Golden Deer instead of the Black Eagles.Byleth chooses the Black Eagles. And Claude's got a lot of questions.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan
Series: be heartless and brave [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551826
Comments: 16
Kudos: 82





	such faithful company

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from me playing through Crimson Flower first, then Verdant Wind, and crying internally the whole time, I guess.
> 
> Bit of a note: This only touches very, very briefly on Claude being mixed and how people have treated him because of it. If that kind of thing can be upsetting for you, please do exercise caution! Full disclosure, I'm mixed. How Claude feels about being mixed is not necessarily how any one specific person feels about being mixed, not necessarily how I feel about being mixed, etc.

It strikes Claude, as he tunes out his classmates chattering excitedly about the attack during the Rite of Rebirth, that he really, _really_ wishes Professor Byleth had chosen to teach the Golden Deer instead of the Black Eagles.

Maybe then they'd have been the ones to take care of this mission.

The Sword of the Creator.

The _Sword of the Creator_.

He doesn't even know where to start there, much less even begin to untangle his own feelings on that.

It's like a bad joke.

If they'd been the ones in there, if they'd seen the Sword of the Creator up close...

Oh, how he wishes he could pick Byleth's brain about that sword. Maybe he could even get a good, close look at it. If he could at least begin to understand how it works, its power...

He holds back a sigh, letting Hilda draw him into the conversation instead.

No use in wishing things were different now, right?

-

He'd say it all really starts with that whole business with the Lance of Ruin though.

It's the Black Eagles and Professor Byleth--with Sylvain tagging along--that deal with it, but Claude talks to Petra sometimes and he gets the story from her. And boy is it a story.

After hearing about it, there's a space of less than an hour between bidding Petra farewell and Claude making a beeline for the library, and most of that time's spent just dodging Hilda and Lorenz.

No time to waste with their questions.

It's not that he dislikes them, honest. Hilda can be fine to talk to. Sure, she's a little strange, and he can never quite figure out whether she's watching him as carefully as Lorenz is--and sometimes, when she starts talking about Almyra, he finds his smile feels frozen on his face, even as he bites his tongue for all he's worth--but she's fine.

And Lorenz is... complicated. He doesn't trust Claude, but that's nothing out of the ordinary. He can't even be surprised at way the guy's always watching him, knowing what his father's likely asked of him.

But it's just that.

It's complicated. Lorenz is complicated, and it's harder to forget it than it is with Hilda.

At the library, he pulls out as many books on Crests and Relics as he dares to at once. History books, mostly, paying special attention to the ones that look like they've been read less often. It's not the pretty legends he wants, but what actual history may be recorded, what the historians have to say about Seiros and Nemesis and Crests.

If he can find any on the history of the church, or even the history of the Relics, it'll be the best start he can ask for.

The question is how deeply has the Church of Seiros sunk its claws into everything. Deep enough that nothing like that will even exist? And if not, would it even be found in a library belonging to the church?

It's unlikely, but it's the best start he's got. This library is the only resource he's got access to right now, besides anything he could have sent over from his grandfather's estate. And that'd probably be a bust anyway. The old man didn't have anything of the sort there the few times Claude tried to look. But then again, he's a devout man, like any good Fódlan noble.

He tries not to laugh out loud at the thought.

Yeah. Those Fódlan nobles.

Claude sets up camp in the farthest table he can find from where old Tomas is talking to a monk and gets to work. The results, however, are more than disappointing.

It isn't that he doesn't find enough of what he's looking for. It's that he doesn't find a _thing._ There's nothing, absolutely nothing, about anything even remotely like the beast the older Gautier brother supposedly turned into. Not a single mention of even the possibility, or of how a relic could twist a person like that, much less of any negative effects Crests could have on their bearers.

Briefly, Claude weighs going up to Sylvain himself and seeing if he knows anything, but soon discards the thought. Bad idea when he doesn't know how much he can trust that the guy won't report everything he asks back to Seteth or the archbishop.

Though Claude sure _hopes_ he's not just accepting the whole _the Goddess said it was your brother's punishment to die like that_ thing that Petra mentioned.

He wakes up the next morning with a crick in his neck and surrounded by borrowed books scattered across his bed.

Still no luck.

Partway through his second night of research, while carefully inspecting the very first lead he's got, in the form of a drawing of an actual dragon, he runs into Edelgard.

Scratch that. He runs into Professor Byleth first, then Tomas interrupts, with his oh so helpful warning about being careful around the Knights if he's going to be researching this sort of thing--and the fact he even noticed so quickly is more of a surprise than he'd like--then he's dropping hints and stories about destroyed and banned records on _exactly what he's looking for_ and...

Great. It just figures they'd get rid of the real helpful books. The Church of Seiros feels more and more exciting every day.

As soon as Tomas leaves though... Professor Byleth's curious about what he's researching, in that odd, bland way of hers, and he lets himself answer some of her questions--in vague terms he does his best to make seem _not_ vague. Byleth's still an unknown variable here, but it won't hurt to feel her out.

Holding back is worth the relief he feels when he realizes Edelgard was listening in on their conversation.

"...If you're sharing secrets, perhaps I can share one as well?"

He doesn't believe for a second that she'll actually share anything substantial, but he can let loose a few things that sound like secrets. What can he do but take it as a challenge? Especially when the Professor joins in after Edelgard presses about his past.

And maybe he can say a few things closer to the truth, hints at his own goals and dreams. That's part of the fun, right? Acknowledging he has a dream doesn't give away more than he should.

And Edelgard responds in kind.

"I have my own dream to tend to," she says. "I pray that yours does not interfere with mine."

Claude smiles in response. It's a harmless enough statement, although not a real secret, but he's sure there's some sort of reason she's even telling him that much.

He'll have to keep a closer eye on her.

-

Seteth confiscates the drawing.

Back to square one.

And the next weeks are almost enough to make Claude regret the thought of keeping an eye on Edelgard.

Not because he doesn't want, or doesn't try to do it, but because he could swear _she's_ keeping one on him, too.

And that's fine. Honest. The short amount of time he's spent in the Alliance _and_ Garreg Mach has been enough to get him used to the scrutiny, not to mention his life even before that, but there's something wholly unnerving about it being Edelgard von Hresvelg who's doing it.

He keeps running into Edelgard in the library now, always at night when he expects to see no one other than maybe Lysithea or Linhardt there. And he sees them there, all right, then finds Edelgard nearly every time, her nose buried in a book and her ears perked up.

She'll even strike up short conversations with him now and then. They're never anything particularly alarming, usually just asking for his thoughts on whatever topics this or that professor has covered in class, but he can't shake off the feeling she's working up to something.

It's... vexing.

He's hyper-aware of the Knights' vigilance now, too, after the visit Seteth paid him. He knew already, but now he feels like he _knows_ that a little too much interest in certain topics could end up reported right back to the wrong ears.

It forces him to be more circumspect than he normally would be about his research. Not that it's hard, when there's barely anything to find after that drawing, and it's not strictly safe to go around asking anyone but Tomas, but. Still. Until he has access to other sources of information, he has to keep at it, surveillance or no surveillance.

After the Black Eagles rescue Flayn and Monica sounds like a good time to spend a night in the library again. The Knights should be busy with chasing down Jeritza and he figures any nosy princesses and professors will be too busy celebrating.

"How... interesting to run into you here again, Claude," a voice says behind him, less than an hour after he's settled down with some of the dicier books Seteth still considers acceptable.

So, hey. He figures wrong.

"Edelgard," he says without lifting his head. "Don't tell me the heroes of the day still have to _study_ tonight."

"Oh no," she says, her footsteps stopping right beside his chair. "But I'm allowed to come spend my evening reading, aren't I?"

"Of course you are." He flips past a page he hasn't read a single word of. "In that case, be my guest. Take a seat."

He doesn't hear her move.

"I do think it's interesting," she says instead, as he finally does lift his head, only to find her staring straight at him, a heavy-looking book in her hands. "How we keep running into each other here. And in the same sections, too." She lifts her eyes from him and his table to the shelves at his back, from where he's pulled out a handful of the noble records. "Reading up on noble history?"

He hums noncommittally. "Interesting stuff here. Lots of names. Dates. Who knew the church cared so much about all of this?"

"Yes, it's very interesting." Edelgard pulls out a seat on his side of the table then and sits down, leaving one seat empty between the two of them. He's not sure whether he's grateful for the space or not. "I'm sure you know all about what the church values already."

He rests his chin on his palm. Yeah, interesting. What's really interesting is how Edelgard keeps striking up these conversations with him. "Gotta keep an eye on all those Crests, huh?"

"Indeed." She sets down the book she'd been holding and flips it open to a page near the back, but doesn't lower her eyes to it just yet.

He can't quite make out the title of the book from where he's sitting, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye out for it.

"You are more familiar with that sort of thing now, aren't you?"

Great, just what he loves to hear.

But he keeps his expression neutral nonetheless and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Don't worry, Princess, I know enough. Don't tell me though... You're not worried about me, are you? Me and my tragic lack of knowledge?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Of course not. I'm sure you're more than capable of dealing with any of this, previous knowledge or not."

That said, Edelgard falls silent, looking down at her book for the first time since she sat down.

He lowers his head to focus on his own book, biting back a smile. Maybe it's time to break this stalemate of theirs.

He can't tell whether all these visits to the library mean she's trying to tell him something or trying to probe for information. Probably both.

"You know, if you wanted to be friends, you just had to say so." He lifts his head, letting his mouth stretch into that smile.

The very idea is ridiculous.

Her head snaps up. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, it looks to me like you've taken an interest in some of the same topics I have. Why, you could make a guy think you're trying to impress him!"

Edelgard's eyes widen slightly, a hint of color to her cheeks. "Nothing of the sort, _Claude_. I... am merely interested in your research. You've taken an interest in some fascinating topics."

"That so?" Claude grins at her, extra wide. "My, is that a compliment? From Edelgard von Hresvelg, next emperor of Adrestia?"

She gives him just about the flattest look he's ever seen. "Don't mock me."

Ah, no. No, he wouldn't _obviously_ mock her. "Oh, perish the very thought." He winks. "I could never."

Edelgard doesn't seem to find it as funny. Instead, she frowns, sitting up straighter in her chair, and ah. There it is. She _is_ building up to something. "I understand you have your reasons for looking into Crests and the like." Ah, so she's cutting right to the chase, then. "However, you are aware the Knights keep an eye on this sort of thing, aren't you?"

Trying to tell him something: check.

If that's all she wants to say though, the warning's a little late.

"Tomas gave me the rundown. The same night you ruined my lovely little chat with Teach, you know."

"Did he now?" She flips her book shut and turns in place in her seat, facing him directly now. "You'll have to forgive me, I wasn't around for the entire conversation. But, yes, that does sound like something he'd say."

There's _something_ in her tone that has him sitting up and paying extra attention. He just can't seem to name what it is.

Huh.

"All right, tell me, Princess. What's this really about? I know you haven't been here all these times for my company alone."

If anything, the way she looks at him grows even more intense, an expression that's just begging him to pick it apart to inspect. "It is as I said, Claude. Your research." Please. Unfortunately enough, whatever research he may be doing, she probably knows more than he does. "You found a very interesting illustration the other night, did you not?"

Claude raises his eyebrows. "Unfortunately, Seteth confiscated it, so I can't show it to you, if that's what you're asking for."

"Hm, I have no doubt he did. I have no need to see it. I know what..." And here she lowers her voice. "...The Immaculate One looks like. I am, however, curious to know what _you_ thought of that creature."

"Me. Seriously?"

"Yes," she says simply.

Ah. So is this what she's been fishing for all this time?

"Are you going to tell me what you know about it, then?" he asks, smiling.

"I simply want to know what _you_ think."

Claude laughs softly. No. No, there's something here he needs to find. "Well then, Princess. Maybe if you stick around, I'd be willing to share some of my opinions one of these days."

Edelgard narrows her eyes slightly, hands on either side of her book on the table now. "Is that an invitation, Claude?"

"I'd take it as one."

-

Things stay much the same as the next moon stretches on, even with the prospect of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion looming over them.

Edelgard does, in fact, take his invitation and in exactly the way he was hoping for. Or in exactly the way she'd already been planning for. It wouldn't surprise him either way.

She doesn't ask him about the Immaculate One again, but she drops whatever act that was supposed to be entirely. Instead, she now heads straight for whatever table he's occupying any given night. Once, before she can even reach the table, a knight asks her what she's up to and, casual as you please, she just says she's here to study with Claude.

She's here to build inter-house relations, she says the second time she's asked, by a passing Dorothea.

The very same books he's putting down are the ones she openly picks up now, leafing through them and drawing him into conversations about them. He even gets to see what her own books are, when she stops trying to hide the titles from him.

They're all history, but nothing specifically related to Crests, but the Church in general.

Another point for _she already knows all of this_. Now if Claude could just think of a way to convince her to tell him about it...

He's not convinced just writing her an essay about what he thought about one little illustration will do the trick.

The one time he, in vague terms, brings up the incident in Conand Tower, Edelgard only presses her lips together in a thin line and shakes her head, murmuring something about the danger of Relics.

He doesn't get anything else about it out of her that night and the next night she acts like he never even brought it up.

So that's a bust, too.

The worst part though, the absolute worst part, is how slowly, so slowly, he finds himself growing more and more... comfortable around Edelgard, even looking forward to running into her nearly every night.

No, Claude amends to himself, he's looking forward to whatever this is nearly every night, where she always has _some_ kind of comment to make about whatever he's reading and he keeps needling her about how this and that relates to the history of Fódlan, of the church, of Crests.

He never gets much out of her that he either doesn't already know or isn't one of the most cryptic things he's ever heard, but... it's almost fun. Certainly a lot more exciting than dealing with the nobles in the Alliance.

Because it's not suspicion he sees in her eyes--not the kind of suspicion he gets in the Alliance and not even remotely the kind he's trying to dodge from the Knights. Wariness, definitely, and she's as guarded as anyone he's ever met, but it's _interest_ he spies in her more often than not. The very same hunger for knowledge he's felt since arriving in Fódlan.

It's a little unsettling. He wasn't expecting to relate to her in anything.

Lorenz notices--what doesn't that man notice with how much time he spends watching Claude?

As does Hilda. And Edelgard's creepy shadow, for that matter, which isn't exactly the most comforting thought.

But if Hubert or Hilda have anything to say about it, they sure aren't sharing their thoughts with Claude.

No such luck with Lorenz though.

"Claude." Lorenz's voice stops him one evening on his way out of the dining hall, mere days before they're meant to set out for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

"Lorenz." Claude turns to face him, friendly smile already on his face. "How can I help you?"

"How indeed," Lorenz murmurs. "I have been meaning to ask you, you see, about some rumors I've been hearing."

"Aw, Lorenz!" Claude pats his shoulder, then quickly retracts his hand. "I wouldn't pay too much attention to any rumors about you. You know how people are! I bet none of that's even true."

Lorenz reddens. "Rumors about me?! If these are the same ones Professor Byleth has been speaking of, then I assure you I--" He cuts himself off, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "No. No, no, this isn't about that, Claude. It is about _you_."

Shame. He was hoping that would work for a little longer.

"Hm?"

"I am simply curious, Claude," Lorenz says, recovering swiftly. "As to what could have the heirs to the Alliance and the Empire acting so friendly with each other. Some of our classmates seem concerned."

Ah, anything to question his loyalties. How funny that the messenger is a _Gloucester_.

"Oh, you know," he says, not letting himself hesitate in his answer. Or think about the fact he thinks they're _friendly._ "Advancing inter-house relations and all that. You should wait till we add Dimitri to these get-togethers!"

"Hmm, advancing inter-house relations?"

"That's right," Claude says easily.

Lorenz narrows his eyes at him, that ever present suspicion of his still not appeased. Still, he shrugs elegantly, letting it go for the moment, and Claude will count that as a win. "I see," he says. "Then you'll have to tell me all about these meetings of yours at some point. I am ever so curious about this new friend of yours."

Claude laughs. "Nah, Lorenz. She and I aren't friends."

It's the right answer for the Alliance--though he's not sure whether Lorenz's father would agree-- _and_ it's the truth.

That's the end of it.

For the moment.

-

Claude is, if he does say so himself, very pleased with how well the feast after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion turns out.

It sure helps ease the sting of losing to the Black Eagles. Again.

He's doing the rounds around the dining hall, stopping to talk to anyone who shows an interest--and more than a few that don't. It's been _moons_ since he's had such a good chance to feel out his classmates, all of them, not just his fellow Golden Deer, and he's not passing it up.

At the end of his talk with Dimitri, Claude claps him on the shoulder and walks past, leaving him to his quiet conversation with Dedue. He considers, briefly, taking a breather before moving on to the next person, but it's Sylvain he spots next, leaning casually against one of the tables nearby with two girls by him.

There's someone he hasn't exchanged more than a handful of words with. A rarity, to be sure.

He weighs the option in his mind, thinking back to when he decided not to approach Sylvain after everything with the Lance of Ruin, and how that's ended up with him avoiding the guy in general. It's time he changed that, he decides.

He has a request, anyway, and if he remembers right, Sylvain could be just the person to help him with it.

He approaches just as a girl--the niece of a minor noble from Eastern Adrestia, he recalls--laughs prettily, her friend tugging on her arm, intent on dragging her toward the tables piled with food. Rosy-cheeked, the girl parts from Sylvain with a wave and one last, almost shy, comment that Claude doesn't quite catch. The sound of Sylvain laughing at whatever she said follows her as she lets her friend pull her away. But Claude's just close enough, and paying just enough attention, to see the way the smile immediately melts away from his face, the unpleasant twist his mouth takes, before his face settles into a pleasantly neutral expression yet again.

Isn't that interesting?

Does Sylvain even realize how obvious he's made it, even if only for a moment?

He thinks he might regret not having talked to Sylvain beyond the very surface level sooner, with the sudden urge he's got to figure him out.

"Oh, hey, Claude," Sylvain greets, spotting him before Claude can speak and announce himself. His tone's different from how he spoke to the girl, the charm drained out of it and replaced with a certain sort of carelessness.

"Sylvain." Claude grins. "Don't have anyone else to keep you company right now?"

Sylvain laughs again in answer, a hand on his hip. "Oh, they'll come back. Or some of their friends! Who can resist, you know?"

"Who indeed?" he says. "Then I guess I better talk to you quick, huh? Before a pretty girl comes and takes you away."

"Time's a-wasting." Sylvain aims a sunny smile at him. It loses some of its effect with the memory of that disdainful expression still on his mind. "What've you got? 'Cause if you're looking for someone to test one of your poisons, I'm sorry, but I _think_ I hear someone calling my name..."

Claude shakes his head, holding his hands up in front of him. "No, no! Nothing like that." He winks. "I've got it all tested already, trust me. Nothing in the feast." A little white lie. "See, I've heard a few things about you here and there and I've been looking for someone to try out some of those strategy games they got in down at the market recently? One of those fancy noble games I haven't had the chance to play before. Know which ones I mean?"

Sylvain's expression doesn't quite change, but Claude thinks he might detect a hint of interest in him when he says, "Yeah, I've heard of them. I don't think any of the gossip about me is about board games though."

"Hold on, I'm getting to that. The thing is, I just can't find anyone in my house who wants to give 'em a whirl, too. So I asked around a little. You know, all..." He raises his voice an octave. "Do you know anyone who likes them? Anyone who doesn't spend all their free time drinking tea instead?"

Sylvain laughs again. "Oh, no drinking tea? That's definitely not me, then. Are you trying to get me to set you up with someone?"

"No," he says, back to his normal tone of voice. "What I heard was that, if I'm looking for someone who likes board games, I should ask Hubert. But Hubert's a tricky guy to get a hold of and, between you and me, I don't think he likes me that much." He throws that much in just for effect. No doubt he'd have already heard from Hubert if he really didn't like him, with all the time he's been spending with Edelgard. "And then a little birdie told me just _who_ Hubert does play with sometimes. You'll never guess who it is."

"What? It's not you?"

Claude grins. "I wouldn't be in this situation if I were, would I? No, it's you, Sylvain. Imagine my surprise when it was your name that came up, more than once!"

It might have been Petra who told him. Twice, when he asked. He's not lying this time.

Sylvain looks away, then back at Claude, and sighs. "All right, you got me. It's me. But we've only played a couple times. The guy's kinda creepy, you know? Not the easiest guy to talk to." He tilts his head slightly at him, frowning thoughtfully. "But you talk to Edelgard, don't you? You've gotta know what the guy's like."

"Yeah, I do." Sure he does. Everyone has at least an idea what Hubert's like, or at least of how he presents himself to the rest of the monastery. But he can tell what Sylvain's getting at and... no.

Not really.

He's never had the pleasure of exchanging more than a handful of words with Hubert. It's why he's been looking for another way to get to him. Because, yeah, he talks to Edelgard, often now.

But the thing is? Edelgard doesn't mention Hubert to Claude at all and he doesn't get the sense it's because she doesn't care about that shadow of hers. He just can't decide whether it's because of whatever plans she's got or for reasons similar to the ones he has for not bringing up Hilda or Lorenz with Edelgard.

So, surely it wouldn't hurt for them to get to talk on their own terms, right? He can't _afford_ to pass up any chances like this.

Even just this conversation's an opportunity to hold onto on its own. Hubert may be his end goal here, but Sylvain could be an interesting source of information as well, if he ever manages to figure him out. Annette's the only one from the Blue Lions he's managed to have any conversations with and...

He doesn't have time to be getting gossip from her. Not when he can use the time he spends talking to her to figure _her_ out and her alone, not how her house works or any of the gossip from it. So he's long overdue for talking to some of the others, and not just Dimitri.

(Though it's a good reminder as any to mull over that song of hers some more soon, he supposes. He thinks he might be getting closer to figuring it out...)

"But you've gotta know what she's like, too, right? She's not exactly setting up study dates for him."

"And you want a study date. With Hubert."

Claude has to bite back a grin at Sylvain's flat tone. "Yeah, I guess I am! Unless you're offering instead?" He does grin now. " _Have_ you taken a look at what they've got down at the marketplace?"

Sylvain raises an eyebrow, that smile back on his face. "Not yet. But I know what you're talking about. What? You didn't have strategy games where you grew up?"

"Nah, we did." Claude waves a hand dismissively. "Just not the fancy ones nobles play, you know?" His mother never liked them. His father wasn't interested in what kinds of strategy games Fódlan cowards would use. "Figured this was as good a chance as any to change that."

He did learn how to play them with his grandfather though, in the moons before coming to Garreg Mach.

Sylvain hums in answer, noncommittal, but that spark of interest is still in his eyes. It seems to weigh out whatever his misgivings may be, because in the next moment, he shifts on his feet, something about his stance turning, not quite relaxed, but looser. "I wasn't kidding about it only being a couple of times, the guy's hard to pin down, but all right. How about I let you know the next time he actually sees the sun and you can drop by? How's that work for you?"

It works perfectly.

Hubert barely even bats an eye when he shows up at the gazebo one early Sunday afternoon, after Sylvain shoots him a look and a careless wave across the dining hall. Whether that means Sylvain warned him or that Hubert was expecting him, Claude doesn't know. And he doesn't ask just yet.

Edelgard makes only one passing comment about it during their next meeting, a small smile on her face.

And that's how Claude ends up with two regular board game buddies, which Hubert and Sylvain apparently already were.

Only a couple of times, he said?

Liar.

-

He hears the rumors, of course. He knows what most students from the Alliance think of him. How could he not?

Being the house leader does nothing to deter the scrutiny from the other Golden Deer either. If anything, it just makes it worse. It makes him _suspicious._ It's _suspicious_ for Duke Riegan to have suddenly materialized a grandson out of nowhere, when his daughter's spent this long missing.

(And it's almost funny, how it'd have been so easy for some of them to find out exactly where his mother has been all this time, if Fódlan weren't so willfully keeping itself away from the rest of the world.)

Just where did Duke Riegan pull this boy from? Is it a ploy to keep control of the Alliance within his family?

And those are the kinder rumors.

It's so very easy for people to see him as a potential usurper, here to do away with Duke Riegan and wrest control of the Alliance for himself.

Where is he even from, they whisper. Outside Leicester? The Border with Almyra? The Empire? The Kingdom? How do they know that he isn't a pretender? How do they know if he really even is Duke Riegan's grandson? Does he even really look anything like him? Like his mother, for that matter?

That's one Claude tries not to listen to.

That's one Claude tries not to listen to. He doesn't look that much like his father, not with the blood of Fódlan running through his veins, but he looks even less like his mother, save for the eyes. He's always known that.

But that's something he's already spent more time than he wants to think about turning over and over and over in his head, too many sleepless nights spent wondering why he couldn't seem to fit in.

He thinks he might have had enough of it already.

Fódlan is what it is and dwelling on the past won't get him any closer to his goals, or make Fódlan any different.

In any case, he's gotten damn good at pretending not that he can't hear the whispers, but that they don't exist in the first place.

He can smile at this baron's son and that count's daughter and ask them how their classes are going and how they feel about their performance during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, like he didn't hear them the other day in the courtyard, in the middle of a whispered debate on whether he's planning to assassinate his grandfather or something equally ridiculous.

They get a little too bold sometimes.

"I don't know. He definitely didn't grow up in the Alliance," a boy's voice drifts up from the first floor of the library and, if Claude leans forward over his table, he can just barely make out two of his classmates at one of the tables under the railing, not even bothering to lower their voices.

Why would they, he thinks wryly. The library looks empty to them from the first floor, without even Tomas out and about.

Claude doesn't stiffen in his seat, he's too used to this for that, but Edelgard still eyes him from where she's sitting on the other side of his table, raising her eyebrows.

"Of course he didn't," the other student hisses, leaning forward on their elbows on the table. A distant relative of Acheron, he thinks. "He's said so himself. The question is _where_ And why would Duke Riegan legitimize an heir we know nothing about. I mean, do we even know if he's loyal to Leicester? How do we even know he's not going to just..."

Edelgard shifts in her seat and he lets the whispers fade away into the background.

It's nothing he hasn't heard before.

They've been more quiet than usual this evening and he thinks Edelgard might actually be working on her classwork, judging by how her parchment's so full of her handwriting, top to bottom and front to back, that he's surprised she can even fit anything else on it.

"They're your classmates," she murmurs. "And you're their house leader. That's very bold of them, in a place like this."

He's not sure what he was expecting her to say, but that has him raising his eyebrows as well. "What? You're surprised?"

"Well... No. I was aware some of the Alliance nobles were displeased with the situation, if that's what you're asking. But they don't have a shred of real evidence. _Or_ , I would wager, a sincere desire to find an answer."

"So is it surprising because of just the topic or the speculating about my life or...?" He smiles, closer to a smirk than anything. "Would it be better if they had real evidence? Because I recall a princess I know asking me about something like that once."

"Hm." Edelgard looks away from him. The way the candlelight flickers over her face, casting it half in shadow, makes her expression more unreadable than usual. "I suppose I did, yes," she says, an odd note creeping into her voice.

He waits for her to elaborate. He doesn't know what that tone means, but it feels more honest than the usual tones she speaks in.

"At the time, I did think being direct like that was best. But I can see how that was less than ideal as well. It's certainly no way to solve a mystery like you."

Claude laughs, quietly. "Oh, so I'm a mystery now, am I?" He rests his elbows on the edge of the table and his chin on his hand. "Can't say I blame you for thinking that. You're something of a mystery yourself, you know, Princess."

Her lips curls. "Yes, well, I suppose I should be proud of that, too, but I assure you it's not exactly my _intent_ to be a mystery."

"What _is_ your intent, then?"

She laughs. "Didn't we talk about this once before? Our dreams?"

Not exactly what he was getting at, but he wasn't expecting a real answer either.

"And you never did tell me what your dream was!"

"You didn't tell me yours either, so I believe I'll keep it to myself for a while longer. Perhaps until I've made real headway in it."

Claude groans. "Aw, you know that could take forever."

"Oh, I doubt that. I prefer not to waste time. I don't have much time for it, at any rate."

Claude chuckles. "You sound like Lysithea."

Edelgard pauses, then very slowly, says, "Yes, I suppose I do. I would."

Wait. He feels like he missed a step somewhere. That was supposed to be a joke.

He doesn't know what that means, but he'd very much like to know.

If only to do something about the way his stomach drops at those words, in much the same way all of Lysithea's talk of running out of time does.

-

Professor Manuela picks him as the Golden Deer's representative for the White Heron Cup. Him!

After Lorenz and Hilda are done complaining at the injustice of not being picked, they both descend on him, intent on "helping" him practice.

_Oh no, there's no way you'll be able to win this if we don't help you, Claude._

_Do you want to humiliate the Golden Deer, Claude?_

_Oh, why didn't Professor Manuela pick me?_

Bah.

The two of them trying to teach together?

Disastrous.

Claude breathes a sigh of relief when they finally quit for the evening, glaring daggers at each other on their way back to the dorms.

He's growing more comfortable around them, honest--he think he likes them, might even want to call them his friends for real one of these days--but the both of them are still a handful and a half.

He almost misses the constant suspicion.

So he sees them off with a careless smile, saying something about practicing what they taught him so they don't try to follow him. They're too distracted to really question it, which works out perfectly for him.

As his feet carry him away from their classroom, and away from the dorms, he weighs the idea of hiding out in the library for the rest of the evening, maybe burying himself behind a nice, tall pile of books until the White Heron Cup's over and done with. Linhardt might even be willing to show him where he naps in there, if Claude asks nicely. He's been having trouble finding all the spots he uses.

Or maybe Edelgard will find him instead, if she's not busy convincing Dorothea to represent her class for the Cup.

He doesn't consider the idea for long.

Because it's not in the library that Edelgard catches him this evening, but the Knight's Hall after it's emptied out, where Claude reluctantly does set out to practice some more.

"Don't tell me," he says, raising a hand to press against his chest. "You were looking for me?"

She breathes out a quiet laugh. "No, I'm afraid not. My apologies if you were hoping I was."

"My heart's broken. Just shattered, I tell you," he teases, dropping down onto one of the seats. So maybe he's a little tired. It's fine. "What _are_ you doing here at this time of night, then, if it's not looking for my charming company?"

"Were you practicing for the White Heron Cup?" she asks instead of answering his question, because of course she does. "Dorothea did mention that Professor Manuela had picked you for your class. Congratulations, by the way."

He laughs weakly. Oh, he's sure the whole monastery knows by now. Maybe the town soon, too.

"Yeah, thanks for that." He smiles, surer now. "What can I say? Professor Manuela must really have faith in me." Or really want to see him fail. Even odds right now. "What about your class? Did you convince Dorothea to represent you?"

"Naturally. She's looking forward to it."

"Looking forward to crushing the rest of us, you mean?"

Edelgard smirks, just long enough for him to get a good look, before schooling her face into a politely blank expression. "Oh, please, she'll enjoy it for its own sake as well."

"As well, huh?"

"In any case," she says, eyes crinkling. "It looks to me as if you could use some help."

"Who?" He spreads his arms, making a show of looking around the empty hall, and gives her a lopsided smile. "Me? Why, I can't believe you have so little faith in me, Edelgard."

"Oh, yes, it's simply terrible. Do you need someone to practice with?" She holds out a hand, barreling right on.

Claude blinks at her. "Wait, are you serious? Weren't we _just_ talking about Dorothea crushing the rest of us?"

"It wouldn't be any fun for her if it was too easy, would it? Come now, surely you want to put on a good show, regardless of whether you win or not," she says and...

He can't actually argue with that. Beating Dorothea in the competition is a long shot, but he'll be damned if he doesn't give it his all anyway.

And he does need the help. He keeps freezing up, trying to plan every single dance step before he takes it, then finding his feet have moved too quickly, that there's no _time_ to stop and decide how he should move. The dance is too different from what he's used to, too rigid, and it's just. Not. Coming together.

So yeah. It's a good offer.

It's her offering that's kind of weird.

Claude sighs, running a hand down his face. It's a good thing that the easiest way to find out whether she's up to something is the one that benefits him. "You know what? All right. Dance with me."

He's not that bad at it. Honest. He's sure he can get the hang of it if he just stops thinking for a while.

Still, she lets him fumble through getting back into position and through the first few steps of the dance, then, "Lead with your right foot," she says briskly, nudging him into the right position. "No, no. Your _right_. Pay attention."

"Aw, Princess, you're a tough one."

"Hardly," she says, pulling him back into position with the hand at his shoulder. "You said you'd practice. And now we're practicing. There's not much time left until the White Heron Cup, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. This is how I don't humiliate myself against Dorothea, right? I sure didn't know you were so into teaching though."

"Well. It's not the first time I've taught someone how to dance." She smiles, a touch wistful. "Not that this is teaching, exactly."

"Really? I didn't think they'd have the princess teaching everyone how to dance."

"Don't mock me, Claude," she says, with a smile this time, and lets him twirl her around without comment, even though the move he pulls is _definitely_ too flashy for this stuffy dance. Right, see, he can do this. "The truth is it was a very long time ago. I hardly remember it."

"Ah, so your dance lessons are special. Got it."

She huffs. "You can believe that, if you want."

Another circuit of the room, where she pokes and prods at him until he gets the moves right, and she says, "You know, most Fódlan nobles learn at least the basics of these sorts of dances. Did your mother let you skip the lessons?"

He chews over his answer as they get through the next few steps, moving even slower now. There's a lot of ways he could answer that question, with varying degrees of honesty.

Claude settles on lifting one shoulder in a shrug and saying, "I didn't exactly grow up with this kind of dance."

"Hm?" Her voice is unconcerned, but he doesn't miss the curious look in her eyes.

"We danced different things in my family, that's all. Nothing like what my mother's family danced."

"Did you?" She frowns thoughtfully. "And she never wanted to teach you any of them?"

"Nah, I got the feeling she didn't like them much."

That's probably not quite the right way to describe it, not with her complicated relationship with everything Fódlan, but she'd certainly never seemed to enjoy them.

"Ah, I see. I suppose that's to be expected, with how she left the Alliance." She meets his eyes, a question in hers.

And that's a question that he's not answering.

"Yeah, I guess so. She never talks about that either. Doesn't like people prying into her childhood either, you know?"

Edelgard lets out a breath that isn't quite a laugh, but sounds close enough to him. "Don't we all have so much in common? Still, did your grandfather never try to teach you when you came to the Alliance?"

"Him?" Claude laughs. "Nah. Nah, he wouldn't do that. Maybe some of his people, but..." He frowns. "Nah, they didn't either."

She sighs. "I see," she says again. "That's a shame. They don't trust you very much in the Alliance, do they?"

"Not at all. Guess they didn't appreciate my entrance. But you knew that, didn't you?"

He gets a nod in answer and that's the last thing either of them say for most of the night.

It does help though. He carries her no-nonsense advice, combined with whatever Hilda and Lorenz were trying to convey, with him when he shoves himself into that flashy dancing outfit and into the reception hall where everyone's gathered.

It's what he holds on to when he's up in front of everyone, desperately trying to remember the dance steps he practiced with Edelgard and Hilda and Lorenz.

At least Professor Manuela looks proud, even when he stumbles a few times.

Then Annette wins the White Heron Cup.

That's a fun surprise.

As the judges rush to congratulate her, Claude turns to look at Dorothea, standing wide-eyed beside him. She frowns, crosses and uncrosses her arms, then finally notices him looking at her. Much to his surprise, she laughs when her eyes meet his, shaking her head.

"Well, that was fun! Not the outcome I was expecting though, I have to admit."

Claude can't help but laugh as well, mostly out of relief. "You're telling me. Good for Annette though, she did a great job."

"She did," Dorothea says, despairing, hands clasped at her chest. "Oh, she did. Who'd have thought it'd be the Blue Lions who'd pull out all the stops?" She shakes her head again and turns to face him fully. "Well. And a good job to you, too! You were solid competition."

"Ha, yeah, thanks. And _you_ were fantastic, of course."

"Thank you," she says, grinning. "So, I'm guessing those lessons with Edie paid off?"

"She told you," he doesn't ask.

Dorothea claps her hands together. "You bet! I thought it was pretty sweet of her, even though it was me she was rooting for." She winks at him. "I'm just so glad Edie's making friends outside our house, you know?"

Claude stares.

"Oh! Dorothea!"

But then Professor Manuela's speaking in their direction and Dorothea's eyes brighten as she turns to face her and Claude doesn't get the chance to ask.

Wait.

_Friends?_

Seriously? Her, too?

-

There's tension in the air, thick enough to choke on, all throughout the monastery after Jeralt's death. It only grows after the Black Eagles leave to deal with Jeralt's murderer and return with a changed Byleth.

It's hard to miss the wariness in everyone then, but none look warier than the Black Eagles themselves, after whatever they faced when Tomas--Solon, he has to remind himself--revealed his true self, after whatever he did that changed Byleth, that thing the Black Eagles are all being particularly tight-lipped about.

Even after the handful of moons since, Claude still can't decide whether that one's a shock or not. Tomas's true identity, that is.

It does explain a lot about the man though, about how eager he'd been to share all he did with Claude. Too bad he'd just chalked it up at the time to the general strangeness of the Church of Seiros, while he was still trying to feel out what he could and couldn't say and do around them all, just what was and wasn't acceptable to them.

He's grateful though. The little knowledge he's been able to dig up--with a little of Solon's assistance--helps to lessen the feeling of helplessness these days. Not at what the Black Eagles are hiding or at the question of just who Solon was working for, but at _Rhea_.

She seems downright giddy at times, whenever he spots her in the cathedral, in a way that makes Claude's blood run cold. It should be fine, he reasons. Surely something like this would catch the archbishop's attention like this. It's fine for her to be... happy?

But there's just something about her, the woman who runs the very church of Seiros and who so casually orders executions of heretics, acting that way that unsettles him.

And Edelgard...

Edelgard doesn't show up at the library for several days on end. And they've been meeting there often enough now that it _does_ stand out. She doesn't approach him anywhere else either. In fact, he doesn't see her even in the dining hall for those very same days. Either she's keeping odd hours or she's eating somewhere else entirely.

Petra doesn't have much to tell him when they next talk, sitting in a clearing in the forest outside the monastery. She's not quite sure herself what happened to the professor, beyond the basics, she says, but whatever happened saved her life.

They'd thought Byleth was gone, lost to Solon's magic. Banished to somewhere they couldn't see, she came back with her hair and eyes washed out to a different color. And an outlandish explanation for it.

"The others might have better understanding," she says, grimacing. "It is to do with the goddess of Fódlan and her power and I... do not know her." She sighs, resting an elbow on her raised knee. "I do not think I wish to know her the way the people of Fódlan do, at least not beyond the..."

"The stories?" Claude finishes for her. "Yeah, don't worry about it, Petra. Neither do I."

Edelgard doesn't say anything about her disappearing act when she does show up again to their meetings, a couple weeks later, acting like nothing's out of the ordinary.

She stops showing up nearly every night like she used to.

He asks about that, once, his curiosity reaching its boiling point. He has heard the rumors of unrest in the empire, but it's not quite the same as hearing it from the next emperor herself, right?

She gives him a tight smile and says, "Things are getting complicated in the Empire and there are some matters that require my attention. Why do you ask? Don't tell me you've missed me."

It comes out awkwardly from her, like she's trying to mimic him, but doesn't quite know how to.

"Oh, desperately," Claude deadpans. "Come on, you're not distracting me like that. Hubert's been gone a lot, too. I was just curious. It's not like you have to answer."

It's been a little strange, actually, having his regular strategy game meetings consist of only him and Sylvain.

Edelgard sighs, long and slow. "My apologies. It is as I said though. Everything is quite complicated in the capital right now and the Academy's been kind enough to allow me to deal with it when I need to."

Not that she'd need Rhea or Seteth's permission if she really wanted to go, he thinks and doesn't say.

"Gotcha. Kind of a shame this all happens after everything with Teach though."

That's the thing. Things only got (even more) complicated in Adrestia after everything with Solon and Monica and the rest of those creeps?

It doesn't feel right.

"Yes, it is." She frowns. "Poor timing, I'm afraid, but this should be resolved within the next moons."

He rests his elbows on the table and nods. Somehow, he has no doubt of that. "I believe you. Hey, be sure to tell Hubert good luck for me if he keeps ditching on our appointments, all right?"

"Yes, I will." Edelgard straightens in her seat. "In any case," she says in a firmer tone, laying a hand down on the book open in front of her, one she picked out the moment he mentioned what assignment he's been working on. "You did say Professor Manuela's expecting a paper on reason magic from you, didn't you? Will you tell me about it? I'm curious how her teaching methods differ from Professor Byleth's."

-

Once, Edelgard finds Claude in the grounds outside the monastery, seeming just as surprised as him to find him there, her expression open and unguarded for once.

She recovers slowly.

They're nearing the end of the Pegasus Moon and she and her shadow have barely been around the monastery the last few weeks, taking even more frequent trips to and from Enbarr.

Talk about a shock to see her around at all.

"Claude." She's the first one to break the silence. "What a surprise to find you here."

He pushes himself up to his feet, a careful smile pulling at his lips as he dusts off his pants. "I could say the same to you, Princess. Getting some fresh air? Spending some time in nature? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, I recommend doing it more often."

Her answering smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, as usual, but it's smaller than the ones she's shown him before, just the slightest bit crooked.

Like every time before, he's not sure whether he should be proud or concerned she's showing him this at all.

(To think, there's actually someone who gives him pause when she's more sincere than usual.)

"Fresh air, yes, you could say that. I haven't had the chance to do anything like this lately. And the monastery wasn't exactly where I wanted to spend this free time right now. It can be quite stifling sometimes."

It's meant to sound less deliberate than it really is, he thinks.

"Yeah? I get what you mean."

For several silent moments, she hovers by the trees at the edge of the clearing she's stumbled into, her posture just slightly off, though not uncertain. Because uncertain? Certainly not Edelgard von Hresvelg. It's not long before she seems to come to a decision and she strides towards Claude, her every movement smooth and confident now.

"Petra has mentioned you spend a lot of time out here," she says, stopping a short distance away from him, where she gestures at the clearing around them. "I suppose I should have expected to find you."

"Oh? Petra talks to you about me?" He doesn't _think_ Petra's the type to go reporting back to her house leader, but... It's possible, even with some of the rather unconventional things they talk about, by Fódlan standards, anyway. And one just has to be so careful with those Fódlan standards, lest the wrong person goes and gets the wrong idea.

(The prince of Almyra who got himself executed by the Archbishop of Fódlan because he opened his foolish mouth at the wrong time isn't even remotely how he wants to be remembered after he's gone from this world.)

Not that he could blame her, if she has been. Claude likes talking to her, _really_ likes the rare breaks she provides from talking to the Fódlan-born and raised they're surrounded by, but he's probably taken more advantage of the things she tells him about the Black Eagles than he should.

Not that most of it has done him any good.

He has no doubt Petra has realized it he's done it, anyway. It's not ideal, that he's made himself so obvious, but maybe he's getting sloppy, he thinks. Maybe the threat of execution just isn't quite as motivating as everything back home... Claude holds back a snort.

More important things to focus on.

Edelgard huffs out a small sound and pushes a lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "No." She shakes her head. "No, she didn't tell me that, exactly. She mentioned spending a lot of time out here and said that you were one of the people she speaks to here. That's all."

That sounds more like Petra.

"So did she suggest you cool off here or something?"

"Ah, no. But I thought her methods for it were worth exploring, at least. She's said something about... Yes. Spending time in nature, as you said." Her lips quirk, still just the slightest bit crooked. "She's complained more than once about the people of Fódlan not caring as much for nature as we should."

He laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, she's told me that, too. You gotta admit, it has to be real strange for her still."

He knows it is for him. And, sure, he's been here for much a shorter time than Petra has, but he'd like to think he'd at least gotten an idea what it'd be like from his mother.

But it's _insane_. He knew from the start how much the Church of Seiros controls everything in Fódlan. He knew just how much the church had isolated the continent, too, to its great detriment.

Seeing it in action though? How he has to watch his every word when he talks about it?

It's still utterly bizarre, and he's already used to having to watch his every word and every step. He can't imagine what it's like for Petra, who seems to have been raised to be much more straightforward.

"I know it is, yes," Edelgard says, resting a hand at her cheek. "I know living in the Empire hasn't been easy for her." She frowns down at her feet, then snaps out of whatever thought she'd fallen into, straightening up again. "In any case, are you doing something similar? She didn't say why you spend so much time here as well."

"Yeah, something like that!" He pauses to consider his next words.

He's seen the sort of things Edelgard researches--the books she reads that he thinks only just barely made it past Seteth's inspection and ones that he's sure didn't come from the library at all--the way her lips thins and her eyes harden whenever a monk approaches them at the library.

Yeah. She probably wouldn't turn him in to Seteth for heresy.

So he takes a chance. "You called the monastery stifling, right?" he says, leaning back against a tree trunk.

"And you said you knew the feeling."

"Right. Because I do. You know I didn't grow up in Fódlan." He waits for her to nod. "So you know I didn't exactly grow up with the Church of Seiros either."

"Like Petra and the Professor. In a sense," she clarifies. "I'm aware that the Professor, especially, didn't have quite the same experiences as the two of you."

Byleth's a mystery on her own, when it comes to this. How in the world did Jeralt keep her entirely from the church while in Fódlan? Even he, in Almyra, still heard of it from time to time, and not just from his mother.

"Yeah. So it's just strange, you know? How it's the Goddess, and only the Goddess, that's everywhere here. Not that I think they're wrong or anything, but..." He taps a finger against his chin, considering. "They try real hard to make sure it stays that way, don't they? Seteth wouldn't even let me keep that drawing. It feels like a real waste to dismiss anything that isn't the Goddess so easily."

He bites back on any further words, watching for her reaction.

It's nothing. He's said nothing that should be particularly scandalous. But he knows what someone like Rhea would think of it.

But Edelgard's face shows nothing but polite interest when she asks, "And that's what feels stifling, yes?" She nods. "I can see why. The fixation with Crests must have come as quite a surprise to you as well."

Oh, yeah. Crests, Relics... He bites the inside of his cheek, then slowly lets out a breath. A surprise is one way to put it.

_If only, if only..._

How little he's found on them, even all these moons later, still grates.

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't even know I had a Crest till I came here. Didn't know about my family's Relic either. It was strange to find that it's all such a big deal."

"Hm, well, I did grow up with the Church of Seiros. And... I must admit I've never found any sort of comfort in it, myself, and..." Edelgard trails off and levels him with a look he doesn't recognize, her eyes suddenly as sharp as he's ever seen them. Challenging, he'd say. "You were referring to the illustration of the Immaculate One, yes? What Seteth confiscated?"

Oh? Are they actually getting somewhere here? "Yes?"

"The Immaculate One is not what I would look to when it comes to alternatives to the Goddess, if that was what you meant. That is not the reason the Church does not want you to learn of this. There is much you do not know about its leaders and the Immaculate One is but another part of it." She eyes Claude carefully. "That is all I can say, but surely, you are intelligent enough to continue to follow that lead."

Claude settles on a small smile as a response for the moment, gathering his thoughts. Is she trying to help him or insult him?

The Immaculate One... is something the Church is hiding, then. Is that what she's trying to tell him? "Wow, Princess, those are some bold words for Garreg Mach," he finally says.

"I suppose." She cuts her eyes away from him, toward the walls of the monastery in the near distance, then back at him. "But it seems to me like we're not _in_ Garreg Mach right now."

"And would that be enough to convince you to say more? Or am I just going to have to keep hounding you for it."

She smiles again. "You are certainly welcome to try. But, unfortunately, I must now return to the monastery," she says, already half-turning away. "Do take care."

"You know, if someone heard us, they could accuse of us more than just heresy for this conversation."

"It's a good thing no one's heard us then, isn't it?"

He watches her go.

-

The next time Claude sees Edelgard in the monastery, she's leaving Hubert behind in the dining hall and brushing off Ferdinand as he tries to get her attention, her steps purposeful.

She heads straight for the table _Claude_ is sitting at, not even halfway through his dinner yet, and there, she carefully sets her plate down and sits immediately to his left, casual as anything.

Claude stares at her.

Information is his priority right now and she knows it as well as he knows she has no real intention to explain anything else just yet. He had, quite honestly, been expecting her to avoid him for a while.

Leave it to Edelgard to do this.

"Good evening, Claude," is all she says, proper as anything, before she lifts her spoon and tucks in.

Across from him, Hilda shoots him a wide-eyed look, lips parted in surprise, and he can only lift his shoulders in a helpless shrug in answer.

All right, inter-house relations are happening.

"So..." Hilda's the first to break the silence, once she manages to pick her jaw up off the floor. "It's so nice of you to join us, Edelgard," she says, wooden. If Edelgard notices, she doesn't acknowledge it.

"Yes, well, this seemed like a good a time as any to..." She glances at Claude. "What was it? Advance inter-house relations?"

Right.

"Right. So, you've met Hilda..."

"Your Empire friend's weird, Claude," Hilda grouses at him later, as they climb the steps up to the second floor of the dorms.

Friend again, huh?

Please.

"She's not my friend," he answers automatically, though he softens the words with a cheerful smile aimed at Hilda. "We just study together sometimes."

Hilda's answering look is skeptical, but she stops outside the door to her room and shrugs at him. "Well, all right," she says slowly. "Just don't go getting yourself into trouble or anything, okay?"

"Aw, Hilda! You've got nothing to worry about. Edelgard's not so bad, you know. She's not going to murder me in my sleep or anything." He backs away from her door. "And like I told you, we just study together sometimes."

Hilda rolls her eyes. "I can't picture her anything _but_ scarily intense even when she's studying." That's all she seems to want to bother saying though, because she doesn't wait for him to answer before she's stepping inside her room and shutting the door, only pausing to roll her eyes when he laughs at her.

It's fine. They just study sometimes. And meet up all over the monastery, sometimes to discuss some good old-fashioned heresy.

And eat together now, apparently. Like they would if...

Like they would if they were friends?

Claude's smile melts away as he heads toward his own room.

Nah.

-

Petra doesn't tell him about what happens in the Holy Mausoleum this time. Petra can't tell him _anything_ for now.

The Black Eagles flee the monastery to follow Edelgard and Professor Byleth, Petra included.

They descend into the Mausoleum with Rhea and, next thing anyone knows, there's shouting coming from that direction and Hubert himself's showing up on the grounds in a flurry of dark magic, quickly rounding up the stragglers who agree to run with him.

This is the only thing Claude manages to see, from the bench in front of the Golden Deer classroom, Hilda and Lorenz sitting at either side of him and Leonie behind them, reading over a protesting Lorenz's shoulder.

Then the shouting begins, Catherine's voice rising above the other Knights' in the distance, and before long, there's Hubert, followed by a shaking but resolute-looking Bernadetta.

They're gone before any of them can speak. They've only just managed to stand, the grounds erupting into chaos, when he comes back for another student and is gone just as quickly.

By the end of the day, there's only a handful of Black Eagles left in the whole of the monastery--children of the families most loyal to the church, as far as he can tell. No one Claude's spoken to more than a handful of times.

They're pale and shaking, huddled together in a corner of the reception hall where Seteth and the Knights gather the rest of the student body. Few dare approach them.

Edelgard's revealed herself as the Flame Emperor and turned on the church, Seteth tells them.

Edelgard's named herself emperor of Adrestia and declared war on the church and Archbishop Rhea, he says. And she's setting off with an army toward Garreg Mach. An army has _already_ begun to gather around them.

Beside him, Lorenz gasps, and Marianne hides her face in Hilda's shoulder. Claude holds himself still, mind racing, ignoring the way his heart stutters in his chest.

Edelgard didn't even hint at any of this.

No.

No, he silently corrects himself. No, she did, didn't she? In her own way.

She said things were complicated in the Empire... And that conversation they had outside the monastery...

That she'd actually take some sort of action against the Church of Seiros shouldn't come as a surprise to him.

Maybe it's just the scale of it that's surprising.

The next moon is a blur of ever increasing tension.

Everyone who can't fight is hastily evacuated, sent either right back home or wherever's safest.

(He sends a message to Judith, too, with a group that means to evacuate to Daphnel, though he doubts it'll reach her until everything is said and done in Garreg Mach.)

And as for everyone else...

They prepare for battle.

The rest of the Golden Deer throw themselves into preparations with grim-faced determination and Claude right along with them, but it doesn't mean he stops paying attention to how the monastery in general is reacting.

Rhea's downright frightening, the few times he runs into her, and Marianne and Ignatz come back with stories of her feverish, _furious_ ranting at Seteth in the cathedral.

In halting tones, Marianne tells him of Rhea swearing she'll kill Edelgard and _tear Byleth's heart out of her chest_ , in those words. That's her most frequent threat, Marianne whispers.

His whole time in the monastery, he's found himself avoiding Cyril more than he means to, even after the kid showed no sign of recognizing him. But the way he is now, parroting so much of what Rhea says now, he can't help the unease that grabs hold of him.

Maybe he should have spoken to him sooner, kept at it.

By contrast, Dimitri's prowling around like a caged animal, snapping at anyone who gets too close to him. The rest of the Blue Lions skirt around him, walking the grounds and halls of the monastery with drawn and tired faces. More than once, Claude catches guilty faces and the tail end of a hushed conversation when he walks into rooms where more than one Blue Lion has gathered, quickly smothered the moment someone approaches.

 _He's losing it_ , someone mutters.

 _It's because of Edelgard,_ someone else answers. _He keeps talking about how he's going to kill her. He's going to hang her head over--_

_Shh! Don't let him hear you, you idiot._

His regularly-scheduled games with Hubert and Sylvain stop, too.

Sure, Hubert isn't around for them anymore--he's taking that smirk he aimed at Claude across the grounds that day, that split-second their eyes met, as his official resignation from their unofficial club, actually. But Sylvain makes himself scarce, instead spending even more of his time with a girl on his arm, if that's even possible. The very few times he sees him without a date, he's always with Felix or Ingrid, or both, his smile as tight as their expressions.

He gives Claude a smoother, and faker, smile the one time he approaches and says something about having to reschedule and not a single word more.

And he tries to get a word in with Dedue, _anything_ he can manage, but Dedue's less inclined than ever to talk to him.

Claude gets lucky when he finds him sitting alone at the sidelines in the training grounds one day, dark circles under his eyes more prominent than they've been this entire moon so far.

"Hey, Dedue, buddy," he says cheerfully, lifting a hand in a wave, then moving to lean against the column beside him. "Taking a break?"

Dedue frowns up at him. "I didn't quite set out to do that," he says, his frown somehow growing more intense. "But I suppose that is what I'm doing, yes. I've not had much time to rest recently."

"Too much to do, right?"

 _Trouble in paradise?_ he doesn't ask. That's not quite it anyway.

The lines of Dedue's face just about radiate unhappiness. "Far too much. We must be ready for this battle." 

And he's got to deal with whatever's going on with Dimitri, Dedue doesn't say, but it's written all over his face. That's one Claude hasn't been able to figure out. Dedue and Dimitri, how they work together. Even if he had been close to figuring them out, and Claude doesn't think he was, recent events have thrown it all out the window. Now he doesn't even know where to start, beyond a whole lot of anger.

 _Are you going to be all right?_ Claude considers asking, throwing caution to the wind, and immediately realizes his error. It's Dimitri that Dedue will be focusing on the most, not himself. That much he's sure of, that Dedue won't give a real answer about himself.

Claude swallows.

"Take care of yourself, all right?"

The slow nod Dedue gives him, eyes on the other side of the training grounds, has to be enough of an answer for him.

They spend the rest of the afternoon there in silence, Claude eventually dropping down to sit beside Dedue.

It's almost nice.

-

Hilda hustles him into their classroom one Sunday afternoon, where he finds a chunk of his classmates gathered.

Not all of them, but perhaps the ones he's closest to.

She sets her hands on his shoulders and pushes him onto one of the seats, then rocks back on her feet, arms crossed.

"So, not that it's not great seeing you all," he says, as if he hadn't sat at breakfast with exactly these very same people. "But anyone care to tell me what this is about?"

"We, uh, just wanted to talk to you, Claude," Raphael says, shifting nervously on his feet. "We haven't had a whole lot of time to do that lately?"

"At least not about anything besides battle strategy," Lysithea mutters, glaring down at her feet.

"We haven't." Claude rests his elbows on the table, eyeing those standing closest to him. "But any particular reason you sent Hilda after me like she was kidnapping me?"

"I wasn't kidnapping you! I had to make sure you didn't run off on us!" She groans and just about throws herself onto the seat beside him. "It was such a pain, too, you could be grateful."

He laughs. "Sure. Thanks, Hilda." 

"Yes, yes, thank you, Hilda," Lorenz cuts in. He leans into the table Claude and Hilda have settled into, placing his hands flat on the wood. In a very dignified manner, of course. "We're all very grateful, now may we get to the point of this?"

Claude looks him in the eye. "And that point is...?"

Lorenz pushes away from the table and a hush falls over the rest of them.

The rest of them, minus Hilda, exchange awkward glances, but nothing more. He gets the feeling they didn't plan this far.

Marianne, of all people, finally breaks the silence.

"We've... been worried about you," she says, looking everywhere but at Claude. "A-all of us. We know... It's Edelgard who's started all of this. And we know..."

"We know you talked a lot," Ignatz says delicately. "It must have come as a surprise when this happened."

"No, no." They cannot be doing what he thinks they're doing. "Seriously, guys. It wasn't as much of a surprise as you'd think. I just didn't imagine she'd go this far this fast!"

Lysithea huffs. "It's fine to say you were surprised, you know! You don't have to pretend like you were expecting this."

"Anyway," Ignatz interrupts, loudly. "What Lysithea, and all of us, are trying to say is we're here for you, all right? And we want you to know that. We know you guys were close and it's fine if you're upset by it."

"It's fine if you're mad."

"Or sad."

"Yes, thank you, Leonie and Raphael. What they said."

"Guys, come on. I told you, it's..."

"Claude." Lorenz interrupts him by setting a hand on his shoulder and it's so much of a surprise--when did he even get behind him?--that Claude can't help but whip his head around to stare at him.

Really? Lorenz?

Rather than acknowledge his undignified reaction though, Lorenz only presses his lips together and squeezes his shoulder lightly. "It will be all right," he says firmly. "We are more than capable of handling her and her army."

"You bet we are," Hilda chimes in. "We're not letting your Empire friend get the best of us!" She grimaces, then gesture at the others. "Weeeeell, _they_ aren't. I'm just going to cheer you all on."

He can barely wrap his head around it. They are. They really are trying to comfort him.

_Comfort him._

That's... ridiculous. He and Edelgard aren't even friends. What does he need comforting for?

"Aw, Hilda, come on!"

"Don't say that, we're gonna need you there!"

The others crowd around Hilda, who crosses her arms and turns her face away, but Lorenz's hand is still on Claude's shoulder, warm and heavy, and he's helpless to do anything but look up at him.

Seriously. Is this still Lorenz Hellman Gloucester here?

"Lorenz?"

"Claude?" He follows Claude's line of sight down to his shoulder and flushes, eyes widening. "Ah. Yes. Excuse me." Lorenz pulls his hand back, hiding it behind his back, and very pointedly does not meet Claude's eyes. He clears his throat. "Well, I believe we've made our point. As was only proper. You are our house leader, after all."

"Right. Thanks."

He looks up at Lorenz and immediately decides that was the wrong answer. Not because of Lorenz's reaction, but because of the way Lorenz doesn't react, still looking somewhere above Claude's head, his hand still hidden behind his back.

"No, I..." He sighs and, ignoring the commotion surrounding the table, rises to his feet. He can't be as tall as Lorenz, but he can at least be closer to him in height like this. "Thank you, Lorenz," he says, briefly laying his hands on Lorenz's shoulders, before pulling them back.

"There's really no need to thank me, Claude. As I said, it's only proper to--"

"To help a friend, right?"

Lorenz reddens further. Claude tries to laugh it off, but he can't seem to muster up anything but a smile.

"Y...Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right."

-

But the truth is Edelgard owes Claude nothing. And Claude owes Edelgard nothing.

He can't call it a betrayal.

So the way his chest tightens when he sees Edelgard's army advancing on the monastery, the sour twist of his stomach, is only anticipation for a battle. Dismay and confusion at the actions of the Black Eagles.

Nothing more.

Oh, but it's hard to lie to himself like that.

It's not like he can't put some of the pieces together anyway, besides all the obvious-in-hindsight hints she dropped. The church is definitely hiding something--multiple somethings--and Edelgard has to have some idea as to just what that is.

The Immaculate One's probably just the beginning of it.

He holds back a laugh as he watches the slow advance of her army, his classmates herded here and there by the Knights.

"Your friend's really done it now, Claude," Hilda mutters beside him, her eyes hard.

"She's not my friend," he says and, for the first time, he's not sure whether he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> I have... vague things planned. Some partially written lmfao


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